


Lecture Hall Distraction

by idmakeitbehave



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, we love Professor!Spencer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:06:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26610367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idmakeitbehave/pseuds/idmakeitbehave
Summary: Spencer's guest lecturing at a university. This is usually his strong suit, his area of expertise where all of his nervous tendencies disappear. Today though? Someone's caught his eye. And that someone is distracting him. A lot.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 243





	Lecture Hall Distraction

Spencer wasn’t nervous.

In most aspects of his life, he was usually nervous. At least a little. But lecturing? For some reason, standing in front of a lecture hall full of undergrads didn’t make him nervous. Not anymore. He knew what he was talking about and, more to the point, he was confident about it. Teaching gave him the confidence he didn’t normally have in his day to day life. He wasn’t nervous.

He was distracted.

The distraction at hand was right in front of him. In the second row, third seat over, to be exact. He didn’t know your name, so he knew that you weren’t enrolled in the class. (He may just be a guest lecturer, but if that eidetic memory of his was good for anything, it was for memorizing a class roster in an instant.)

You weren’t doing anything wildly out of the ordinary, but he couldn’t stop noticing you. The way you bit your pen, eyebrows furrowed in thought as you listened to him speak. You leaned forward in your seat, one hand under your chin. Spencer hadn’t thought it was physically possible for someone’s eyes to sparkle, but you had managed to prove him wrong.

Thankfully he wasn’t solo for this lecture. If he didn’t have Rossi to back him up every time he lost his train of thought, it would be even more embarrassing than it already was. As it was, he probably should have been preparing himself for the hard time Rossi was going to give him afterward.

That thought didn’t even cross his mind. All he could do was try to focus on the material at hand, eyes trained on his notes.

Spencer didn’t need notes. Ever. He just knew the material. However, his old fashioned tendencies to handwrite everything had led him to jotting down notes every time he lectured. He said a silent thanks to his past self. If nothing else, it gave him something to look at other than you and something to do with his hands.

He was doing better. He was getting back on track, regaining his footing. And then he saw you move out of the corner of his eye. He looked up. He couldn’t help it, it was just instinct.

You shifted in your seat, uncrossing your legs and then recrossing them the other way. Nothing remarkable, except it somehow was. He barely heard Rossi ask him something, too distracted by the way you pushed the hair out of your eyes before returning to your notes.

Spencer turned back to Rossi, stammering out a reply to the question and carrying on with the lecture material as best he could. He needed to get it together.

Rossi watched him with a smirk on his face, all too aware of what was happening. His knowing look turned into a look of near-horror when he heard Spencer go, “That reminds me, I have a joke.”

Rossi turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Don’t,” he whispered. To no avail. It was too late.

“How many existentialists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” Spencer asked. There was a heavy pause, the students all staring at him.

“Two,” he continued. “One to change the light bulb, and one to observe how it symbolizes an incandescent beacon of subjectivity in a netherworld of cosmic nothingness.”

Nothing. It was dead silent, and Spencer felt like he might just wither up on the spot. Gone was the confidence that he had been regaining. He regretted ever opening his mouth.

And then something shocking happened.

You laughed.

You  _ laughed. _

It was a lovely, effervescent sound. Louder than you had intended if the way your hand flew up to your mouth, your cheeks turning bright red was anything to go by. You locked eyes with him, the blush on his face matching yours.

Rossi swooped in, swiftly moving the lecture back to the next subject. The moment was gone, the atmosphere returning to normal.

But Spencer was a goner.

If he had thought he was having a difficult time ignoring you before, now it was utterly impossible.

“One thing you should understand is that no two killers are the same,” Spencer said, starting off relatively strong, but then you looked at him again.  _ Right  _ at him. “They each, um, they each- they occupy their own point on the behavioral spectrum. Uh, genetics, brain chemistry, psychology, and environment are all- uh, they’re all factors.”

_ Really smooth, Doctor Reid. _

Rossi had that knowing smirk on his face again. This lecture couldn’t end quickly enough. Spencer stuck it out for the last few minutes, only tripping over a few more sentences before it was blissfully over. The students began to file out, Spencer and Rossi collecting their things.

Rossi seemed to see something over Spencer’s shoulder, smiling that sly smile of his before excusing himself. “I’ll meet you in the car.”

Spencer tried to ask him what in the world he was talking about, but he was out the door. There was a noise behind him, and Spencer spun around- and came face to face with you. He stared at you for a split second, not quite believing that you were standing in front of him.

“Sorry, Doctor Reid,” you said. “I mean, Agent-”

“Call me Spencer.”

“Spencer. I just- I wanted to say how fascinating I found your lecture.” Your eyes lit up again as you spoke. God, Spencer really hadn’t known that eyes could do that. “The intersection of the various components that it takes to create a serial killer? I mean, just wow. It really brings up the whole ‘nature versus nurture’ argument, if you think about it. Obviously genetics play a huge role, but the impact of the environment? I- oh, I’m rambling, I’m sorry.” You cut yourself off, though you smiled brightly at him, shifting from foot to foot.

“Actually, there are quite a few studies on the subject that bring up a similar point,” Spencer said, his mind blissfully latching onto a topic that he had  _ plenty _ of knowledge about. “It’d be presumptuous to say that there was one factor that was a more defining indicator of an individual’s proclivity for serial violence, but there is a definite link seen between childhood abuse and serial killing. Nature versus nurture, as you said.”

He finished speaking, his hands stopping their elaborate movements and coming to rest awkwardly on his thighs. You were still grinning at him, and he was about to apologize for blathering on too much when you spoke instead.

“God, I could listen to you talk about this all day,” you said. Your eyes went wide as you seemed to realize what you had said, your hand flying to your mouth again.

Spencer had never seen anything so cute. He let out a laugh, smiling instinctively at how flustered you had become. “You’re not in this class,” he said. It wasn’t a question and you both knew it.

“No,” you admitted. “It couldn’t fit into my schedule until the spring. But I saw that you were a guest lecturer and I  _ had  _ to come. I’ve read all of your research articles.” Your mouth snapped shut, your face turning red. “Jesus, that makes me sound like a crazy stalker. I’m sorry, I promise I’m just a fan of your work, it’s incredible. I want to go into the behavioral analysis field after I graduate next semester.”

Spencer stared at you, his mind struggling to comprehend exactly what you were saying. He wasn’t used to this, to this outpouring of compliments over his work, his passion. To someone saying they could ‘listen to him all day’ even? That didn’t happen.

Spencer had to go. Rossi was waiting.

Spencer didn’t want to go. Ever.

“What’s your name?” he finally asked.

You laughed at the realization that you had just talked his ear off without even bothering to introduce yourself. “God, sorry, I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he said, testing it out. It felt right. He wanted to say your name a thousand times. “Can I- can I take you out for coffee sometime, Y/N? I’d love to talk to you more about the field, or um, or anything. If- if you’re interested. It’s okay if you’re not-”

“I would love that, Spencer,” you cut him off, beaming at him. You pulled out your notebook, scribbling your name and number on a page before ripping it off and handing it to him. “I would really, really love that.”

Just this once, Spencer was  _ so  _ glad that he never had any normal fans.


End file.
